


sickness was fixing me some

by ohmcgee



Series: little beasts [62]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use, little beasts, the everyone is super fucked up verse, tim drake is a creep with a camera, where is the porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 00:20:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4856123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“As I said,” Bruce continues. “I hired you for a reason. "</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	sickness was fixing me some

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [we pull our boots on with both hands](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4083439) by [likewinning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likewinning/pseuds/likewinning). 



> I honestly don't know what happened here. WHERE IS THE PORN?

Tim feels uneasy being in Bruce’s office with him alone. Not scared, he’s got six knives hidden on him, a gun, and he’s already scoped out three blunt objects within arm's reach that he could use in a pinch, but he’s pretty sure if Bruce was going to kill him he wouldn’t do it in his study. He’s pretty sure Bruce doesn’t want to kill him at all, he doesn’t have a history of that sort of thing, but Tim also knows he left some pretty telltale bruises on Jason’s hips the other day and a couple of scars on his chest that everyone knows is basically his signature, so Tim’s just trying to cover his bases, is all. 

“You wanted to see me?” 

“Yes,” Bruce says. “I’ve got a job for you.”

“For me?” Tim asks. If Bruce is sending him on a mission on his own maybe he underestimated that whole wanting him dead thing. His fingers inch toward the knife he keeps at his hip when Bruce clears his throat, pushes a manilla envelope full of photos across the desk to him.

“I hired you for a reason,” Bruce says as Tim thumbs through the pictures; photos of Bruce and Dick, Dick and Jason, _Bruce_ and Jason. Tim can’t help but smirk a little when he passes by the one of them on a backroad on the outskirts of Gotham, Jason spread out over the hood of a stolen Charger, his heels digging into Bruce’s back. 

“Yes,” Bruce says. “That’s one of my favorites as well.”

Tim clears his throat, puts the photos back on the desk. “You knew?”

Bruce doesn’t say anything, just stares him down for so long Tim’s not sure he’s ever going to get an answer. Finally, he says, “No,” and Tim can’t deny the thrill that goes through him at that one little word. “As I said,” Bruce continues. “I hired you for a reason. You have a very specific skillset, Tim, and you’re good at what you do. I’m going to need you to put that skill to use for me.”

Tim nods. “Blackmail?”

“Something like that,” Bruce says and passes him a slip of paper with an address on it. “I want everything you can get.”

Tim folds the paper up into fourths, sticks it in his pocket and stands up. “Won’t be a problem.”

 

: : :

 

When Tim was nine he skipped school one day and hid out in the attic until his parents left for work. He found a bunch of shoeboxes filled with receipts, a blank baby book that had never been filled out, and an old camera that must have belonged to one of his grandparents because he’d never seen his parents even use one before. 

He taught himself how to use it, took pictures of everything that moved and somethings that didn’t, sat in his room while his parents screamed and studied the people in the pictures he took. That’s when he learned that you can tell a lot about a person when they don’t know they’re being watched. 

He learned that the neighbor was having an affair with the local minister, that the fat kid across the street likes to set stray cats on fire, and most of all he learned that people, at their very root, were fucking evil and needed to be _stopped._

 

: : :

 

“I have to go out of town for a while,” Tim says to Roy after they smoke a bowl and Roy just looks up at him, his eyebrows pulled together.

“Shit,” he says. “Must be serious.” 

“What?” Tim asks, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt. “Why?”

“Never told me when you were leaving before,” Roy says and Tim wants to argue, but -- he’s right, of course. Only Roy says it like it’s some accusation, like he did it on purpose or something. When really, Tim just wasn’t used to anyone giving a shit if he disappeared or not.

“Anyway,” Tim says. “I want to show you something.”

He doesn’t know why it seems important _now_ of all times. Fucking drugs, probably. This is why he tries to stay away from them. They’re always making him think things are important when they’re not. 

Still, he goes out to his car, unbolts the panel in the trunk and takes out the box he keeps hidden there, goes back inside and puts it on the bed next to Roy. 

“I didn’t know how to talk to people,” Tim says as Roy lifts the lid off the shoebox and picks up a few pictures, and it _has_ to be the stupid drugs because he’s never told _anyone_ this before. “So I took pictures of them.”

Roy’s looking at a picture of himself, just standing outside a convenience store smoking, wearing that stupid red hoodie that he’s pretty sure Tim stole from him right after they met.

“You mean you stalked them,” Roy says, but he doesn’t sound like everyone else when he says it. He doesn’t sound disappointed or _concerned_ , mostly he just sounds amused. 

“I guess,” Tim says. “I’ve got a box like this for all of you.”

“Cool,” Roy says, putting the lid back on the box and kicking back, lighting up another cigarette. “Got any good ones of Dickie?”

Tim lights up like it’s Christmas. 

 

: : :

 

A week later, after he’s gotten all the dirt on the scumbag governor Bruce wanted him to get, Tim pours out all his photos on the bed in his hotel room. Pictures of Dick setting fires, pictures of Jason twirling a knife in his hands, pictures of Roy and Bruce, pictures he studied and jerked off to and _learned_ from. 

Before he goes back to Gotham he shreds every last one. He doesn’t need them anymore.

He keeps the camera though.


End file.
